


The Day it Rained (and Other Notable Events)

by TheIndifferentDroid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Times, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kylux Summer Fest 2018, M/M, Pining, Soft Kylux, benarmie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIndifferentDroid/pseuds/TheIndifferentDroid
Summary: High school friends Ben and Armitage share a summer afternoon together, as they have countless other times. A small, unassuming gesture from Ben will will send Armitage's mind reeling, questioning everything he thought he knew about his best friend.“Summer afternoon – summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” –Henry James





	The Day it Rained (and Other Notable Events)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the KyluxXOXO Summer Fest week 2 prompts: sugar, first times, and friends.

The heat stills the afternoon, paradoxically frozen solid. It’s not a boiling heat, not a rumbling one. Everything is just still and quiet, the neighborhood kids not daring to venture out, the animals all tucked away in trees or under cars. No screeching or laughing. Perhaps a distant, faded sound of the bark of an errant dog. 

The only sound Ben and Armitage hear is the gentle creak, the rhythmic back and forth of the wooden porch swing, its chain moaning from the weight against it. It’s soothing, at least to Armitage, in a way that reminds him of summer – of all the summers – when there’s no stress and blessedly quiet, Brendol-free days. 

Ben is sitting next to Armitage. Both of their legs are lazily kicking back and forth, just enough to propel the swing. Every now and then they’ll take a break, push themselves with the toes of their shoes against the concrete, just enough to keep the swing from stopping. Ben’s legs are long like Armitage’s, keeping them satisfyingly in sync. 

Brendol’s wife gave them each an ice cream bar, a rare treat for Armitage within his own home. It’s an appeasement of sorts – the day is sweltering and they aren’t quite welcome in the spotless house, the sweating messes that they are. Not that they’ve been doing much outside; Armitage isn’t prone to much outdoor activity. The mere act of sitting outside and enjoying someone else’s company proves strenuous in the southern, July heat.

Armitage doesn’t mind it, though. Ben’s with him. And Ben doesn’t seem to mind it either. 

They eat their ice cream in silence, save for the groaning of the swing that’s become a sort of white noise. Armitage glances over at Ben intermittently, seldom enough that he doesn’t make it obvious. Ben is oblivious, though. He’s glancing around the back yard wide-eyed and observant as if he’s never seen it before, as if he hasn’t been there nearly every day this summer. 

Ben’s nonchalantness and charm makes Armitage feel still childlike, in a way. Armitage will graduate the following summer, just ten months from now – an entire year ahead of Ben – and he sometimes feels too severe for a teenager. He wishes he could bottle up Ben’s seemingly carefree attitude, take it with him to college, and dust it off when he’ll be no doubt stressed beyond belief. He likes that about Ben.

Next time Armitage looks up, Ben’s gaze is off to the left, preoccupied by a wasp attempting to build a nest under the overhang of the porch. He’s eyeing it cautiously. Armitage takes advantage of Ben’s rare moment of absent-mindedness, keeping his eyes on him longer than before. He thinks he likes Ben’s hair like it is now, longer than in the school year, ends nearly to the bottom of his ears from two months of summer growth free from the threat of a uniform violation. It suits him better, evens him out a bit. He’s talked about dying it, both this summer and last, but he never does. It may have something to do with Armitage’s suggestion not to, though he really doesn’t know why Ben cares what he thinks. His skin is a shade darker from being outside so much, but the moles on his face are just as apparent. Armitage thinks he likes those too. 

Ben flips his hair out of his face with a jerk of his head, then turns suddenly, looking Armitage right in the eyes. 

"What?" Ben asks. His tone is a little playful, like he knows Armitage was looking for longer than a moment. 

Armitage mumbles, "Nothing," as he turns away quickly, head down to hide the warmth he feels in his face, and curses that his hair isn’t long like Ben’s to cover the redness creeping onto his ears. Coupled with the heat of the day, the flush he feels is almost unbearable. 

"Hey," Ben calls, and Armitage looks up reflexively.

A lopsided smile is plastered across Ben’s face. It’s warm and endearing and it hits Armitage somewhere in his stomach. 

"You’ve got something–" Ben starts, and he reaches out a hand towards Armitage, slowly and tentatively. He doesn’t have to reach too far; they’re sitting so close. Armitage lifts his hand to his face, but Ben’s hand is already there. Armitage’s fingers barely graze the back of Ben’s hand before he drops his hand back to his lap.

They’re both frozen and unmoving – except for Ben’s hand. He gently runs his thumb along the corner of Armitage’s lip, and a cool sensation follows beneath it on his skin before his entire body is aflame. Their eyes meet for a brief moment when Ben looks up from Armitage’s mouth. Armitage’s eyes begin to burn, unblinking; he can’t look away. 

"Chocolate," Ben explains, and his voice is deep and almost hoarse. 

Sure, Ben has touched Armitage before. You can’t be friends with someone for two years and never have physical contact. The accidental brush of a hand, a joking punch to the shoulder. But Armitage knows this is different, or at least hopes it is. 

Armitage only realizes he’s staring at Ben when the image slowly materializes in front of him: Ben taking the edge of his thumb between his lips to lick off the sugary remnants brushed from Armitage’s mouth. 

That’s when Armitage closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth, and he hopes Ben doesn’t hear how his breath catches and shudders. The energy radiating off of Ben is so strong Armitage is sure he’s smiling, even though he can’t see him. 

When he opens his eyes, he plays it off as best he can. "Disgusting.”

Ben actually laughs at that comment but doesn’t respond any further. 

The air settles between them once again as they occupy themselves with finishing their treats. Armitage is careful to eat more tidily. 

The sky is turning black where it peeks out above the trees across the yard. The clouds obstruct the scorching sun with a strange filter, the atmosphere suddenly muddied with yellow-tinged shadow. A strikingly refreshing breeze wafts under the porch, charged with the promise of a storm. 

The wind seems to wake them up a little from their respective musings, and they adjust their seats on the swing, Ben using long strides to kick them back into motion. 

"Armie," Ben says. His tone is open-ended, almost inquisitive, deep and steady like he gets when Ben’s serious about something. Not that Armitage has studied his voice that closely. 

Armitage usually hates the nickname, loathes if he’s being perfectly honest. But when Ben says it, it loses its sharpness, loses its condescension. It’s simply who he is around Ben. Armitage’s name belongs to Ben in that moment. 

Armitage wants all of him to belong to Ben.

He hums, prompting. 

"Have you ever been kissed?" Ben asks. 

"I–" Armitage begins to answer, stops himself. He sits, silent, and thinks. 

Ben is younger than him, brasher somehow, though certainly not more mature. It’s that carelessness, that attitude again that Armitage likes so much. The kind of attitude that makes you think it’s a good idea to ask your friend if he’s ever been kissed.

"No, actually. I–" Armitage pauses. "Haven’t been kissed," he half-whispers. 

"Me either," Ben says, so matter of fact Armitage can’t help but wonder if he’s lying. 

Surely Ben’s been kissed. He is decidedly more handsome, Armitage is sure, a tall and dark dream compared to his own contradicting fire and paleness. And there are always girls fawning over Ben, just waiting to be asked to a dance or walked to class. And then there’s Armitage. Whom he does walk to class. Whom he accompanies to the occasional football game. Homework sessions and movies and home-cooked dinners. But that’s what friends do. 

Friend. The word suddenly seems too flimsy a descriptor. 

 _Friends_  don’t wipe ice cream off your mouth and lick it off their finger. 

Armitage truly does not know what to do with this information. Not once – he could kick himself for being so blind – not once has he ventured to guess maybe Ben wasn’t interested in the girls at school. But he’s obviously getting ahead of himself because even if Ben does like men, it doesn’t mean–

A gentle touch snaps him out of his daydreams. Ben’s hand is on Armitage’s face again, hot skin again too-hot skin, and there’s that jolt of something coursing through Armitage’s body again. Ben’s not wiping anything away this time. His hand is still and steadying, and his eyes are soft and golden and warm. So warm, just like the sticky afternoon. 

"Can I–" Ben begins to ask, but Armitage cuts him off, leaning in with an urgent press of his lips. He reaches up his own hand to place it on Ben’s face, a mirror image, opposite yet all the same. 

They both pull away shortly thereafter, when their lips begin to twitch with the threat of parting. Ben licks his lips and, God, Armitage is in trouble because how has he never noticed how gorgeous Ben’s lips are?

Hell, Armitage is in trouble. Full stop.

The boys slouch back heavily into the rigid back of the swing as it slowly sways to a stop. They glance bashfully at each other, silent at first – Ben’s still swiping at his lips discreetly with his tongue – then Armitage huffs out some semblance of a laugh. It’s more a noise of disbelief, but Ben takes it the wrong way. 

"I – I’m really sorry, Armie – Armitage. I shouldn’t–"

Armitage waves a hand at him. "No. No, it’s fine. It’s fine."

"I shouldn’t have–"

"Ben," Armitage interrupts again, voice stern but anything but harsh. He turns to face Ben, who is still staring off into the back yard refusing to make eye contact. He only looks his way when Armitage places his hand gently over Ben’s. "It’s alright, Ben. It’s quite alright."

A smile crosses Ben’s face, subtle at first, just the slight twitch of the corners of his lips, before it cracks wide and spreads across his face and wrinkles his bright eyes. 

"It’s quite alright," Ben mocks, deepening his voice as much as he can and plastering the words in a sad excuse of an accent. 

Armitage laughs – really laughs this time – and squeezes Ben’s hand. Ben squeezes back. 

Their legs slowly work to kick the swing back into a gentle glide. Thunder rumbles in the distance, the noise cascading until it erupts loudly overhead. There’s another brush of a cool breeze. It begins to rain. 

Good. Armitage could use to cool down.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr ([huxandthehound](https://huxandthehound.tumblr.com/))!


End file.
